Psalm (of Helen) : A mission statement

Gentle readers, may I beg your indulgence with this post; I set out to write a psalm, without first making much of a study on how the psalms were written, and I know that there are scholars among you who know and understand things like structure, metre, the little couplety thing that many of the psalms have and so on.  This will clearly fall far short.

My offering below is probably neither a psalm nor a poem, but a kind of outpouring from the heart in the rough style of the psalmists at their most raw and un-poetic. I don't think God is offended by the awkward and unskilled, and this felt important to me. It just wanted to be said.

As a writer who has - and is - struggling to understand what I am called to do, to find a niche, so stop speak, this seems the very bottom line in why I keep opening my laptop and stringing words together even when frequently I feel like giving up for good. I have tried so many different things, nothing seems to fit, and I come back time and again to this one truth: I want to write about Jesus.

I promise I won't often try to do it in verse.

This is what happened when I splurged it all out. I wanted to share it with you.

Continued over at The Association of Christian Writers' Blog, which is called More Than Writers. Please come and have a look around. There are things that are really worth reading. 

Made to praise you

God, I'm not having a good day.

I don't feel very positive.

I don't feel very much like talking to you, if I'm honest, and I certainly don't feel full of praise. I feel like moaning on about how bad I perceive things to be, how miserable I am, how hard life is. I think I could go on about this at length, and, as you know, I have form in this area. I'm quite good at it. This is what I feel like doing right now.

So I'm not going to. 

I am going to praise you because you are my God and deserving of praise. You died for me; making the effort to praise you when I don't feel like it is a small thing to do. 

Psalm 145

'I will exalt you, my God the King;

I will praise your name for ever and ever.'

Lord God, who made the sun that's shining on the side of my head as I'm talking to you now, I want to praise your holy name. You are the only God, King of Kings. I don't offer you my worship because you need it or because it is required of me - it's because I was made to worship you. 

'Every day I will praise you

and extol your name for ever and ever.'

Every day. Whether I feel like it or not. 

'Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise;

His greatness no-one can fathom.

One generation commends your works to another;

they tell of your mighty acts.'

You are great indeed. Great seems to be an over-used word in our culture where a nice meal is 'great' and pop stars from twenty years ago are known as 'The Greats'.  Your greatness is different altogether, Father. Yours is a greatness that no-one can fathom; it is beyond us. You are above all things. You have done mighty things; never made a mistake. You are eternal and everlasting and unchanging and I want to tell my daughters how wonderful you are. I want them to know what I know and grow and grow.  

'They speak of the glorious splendour of your majesty - 

and I will meditate on your wonderful works.

They tell of the power of your awesome works - 

and I will proclaim your great deeds.'

I only have to look around me to see the glorious splendour of you. It's late February and although cold weather might well return for a few more weeks at the moment the sun is out, the sky is blue and there's a freshness that makes me think that Spring is coming. The sun is shining into the room I'm in and the dust motes are dancing in the shaft of light. Outside the window is a bed of snowdrops and a couple of crocuses with delicate purple veined petals are just opening up. Beauty.

I'm looking at my two daughters as they laugh together (is primary school toilet humour a topic for praise, Lord? I find it a bit wearying after a while I must confess and I'm eagerly awaiting the day when they grow out of it...Anything you can do about that?) but I digress. My girls are so beautiful, so innocent, so full of life and enthusiasm. They learn so fast, they smile so readily. They're unselfconscious and extravagant and full of love. What a breathtaking act of delegation is parenthood? What a miracle that two people can create such wonders. I see Bryan in Katy's smile and in Lizzie's physique. I see my own father in the girls' dimples and the way Kate lifts her eyebrows sometimes.  I see myself as a child in Elizabeth's school photos. I look at my girls and I see you.

Your works are indeed wonderful. 

'They celebrate your abundant goodness

and joyfully sing of your righteousness.'

I need to do more celebrating and less commiserating. I am surrounded by beauty and wonder and miracles and gifts and blessings. I will sing of your goodness and your righteousness. Lord God help me to open my heart to the joy that comes from praising you. You are good to me. I'm sorry for all the times that I take your abundant goodness for granted and choose instead to focus on the negatives.

'The Lord is gracious and compassionate,

slow to anger and rich in love.

The Lord is good to all;

He has compassion on all he has made.'

I know that you will forgive me because it is your nature to forgive. I know that you are gracious and full of compassion. I know that you are slow to get angry. Not like me; I flare up all too easily. I am often on a short fuse and my irritability knows no bounds. Thankyou that you are not like me. Help me to be more like you. 

You are good to me. Thankyou for your kindness and unfailing compassion. Thankyou that no matter what I've done, how I'm feeling, I know that because you are full of grace and kindness I can come to you without fear of being turned away or consumed and destroyed by your holiness. Thankyou that no matter how many times I mess things up, I can still turn around and see your arms open for me to return to. 

'All your works praise you, Lord;

your faithful people extol you.'

Amen. I am your creation, your work - and I lift my eyes and my hands and praise you, glorious Lord. I stand in the ranks of your children and I praise you. I lift you high. You are the Lord. 

'Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,

and your dominion endures through all generations.

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises

and faithful in all he does.'

You are unchanging. Your kingdom will never be destroyed. It will last forever; beyond anything this world can offer and beyond our imaginations. You will never be defeated. You are the same God who spoke to Moses, to Abraham, to David, to John and to Peter. You are the Lord who showed his hands and side to Thomas. You are the God who inspired the great churchmen of the ages and you are my God too. You are the God who walks beside me in my small, imperfect journey through life. 

I love you.

You keep your promises. You never change your mind, or change the goalposts. It is as you say. I can trust you absolutely with the big things and with the little things of my life. You are faithful. Praise you, Lord God, creator of the world. Thankyou for loving me.

'The Lord upholds all who fall

and lifts up all who are bowed down.

The eyes of all look to you,

and you give them their food at the proper time.

You open your hand

and satisfy the desires of every living thing.'

Amen.  I know that this is true. I have been weary and I have leaned on you. I have fallen and you have gently helped me to my feet again. You have lifted my head when I have been weighed down with selfish troubles and you are always there for me. You know what I need and when I need it and if I only trust you then I will never be without. Help me to trust you for the things that I need and not run after so many things that mean nothing at all. 

The other morning I lay in bed and listened to the song of a blackbird outside the window. It occurred to me that the bird was doing what it was made to do. It was singing because it was a blackbird and that is what blackbirds do. It wasn't worried (to the best of my knowledge) about where the next worm was to be found, or whether the next door's cat might one day get too close for comfort; it just sang in praise of the living God that made it. 

If I, too, am made to praise, what would it be like if I did wholeheartedly what I am made to do? What a perfect sound could I make? How pleasing it would be to you, Lord God, if I could lay aside everything superfluous and sinful and simply live to praise you? 

'The Lord is righteous in all his ways

and faithful in all he does.

The Lord is near to all who call on him,

to all who call on him in truth.'

Yes, Lord, I know that you are near. I know this because you have said that you will be with me always, and you are righteous and faithful. I know that you will never let me down. I know that you are near even when I don't feel you - I know because earlier on this morning I felt as if you were a million miles away and now I know that you were there all the time. You don't move. You don't walk away when I offend you. 

I call on you, Lord God. I cannot hide anything from you. I lay before you all that I am, all the bits I'd rather stuff into a dark corner as well as the bits that I quite like. I am who I am - you know because you made me. You know what stage I'm at in my journey towards you. Here I am. 

Hold me close by your side. I want to stay there, I really do; it's just that I can't seem to do what I want to do. I keep wandering off. I keep getting distracted by other things. My eye is caught by something and suddenly I realise that I have strayed off the path. Thankyou that you are always there to guide me back. Lord, thank you for your love and faithfulness. 

'My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord.

Let every creature praise his holy name

for ever and ever.'

Amen and amen. 

I believe that there will come a day when the whole of creation past, present and future will praise you, Father God. Everybody will see your glory and will worship you. There will be no-one who denies that you are who you are. It won't be possible. Every knee will bow and every tongue confess that you are the Lord. 

I'm looking forward to that day. 

Thankyou, God. 

I feel better. 

Finding a spacious place

Morning, Lord. 

And a miserable rainy one it is too, if  you don't mind me saying. I have heard it said that there is no bad weather, only inappropriate clothing, but I disagree. My mood seems to be closely linked with the weather and the time of year and today it's windy and rainy and dark and it feels as if summer is over and here comes the slow, grumpy slide into winter. Hmmph.

I need to get past this as it's September now and a long way till spring; I can't be harping on about dark nights and dark mornings and the cold and the wet and the leaves falling off the trees for the next six months. If I have to shut up about it I'd just as soon find a way to feel better about it, if it's all the same to you. I need to find joy every day whether the sun is out or if it's hidden behind impenetrable banks of cloud.

On holiday I saw the sunrise a couple of times. It involved getting up before dawn and making my way to the beach (less than two minutes walk) and then walking along or sitting and waiting for the sun to come up. 

Yes, me. I bet you were surprised to see me up and about at that time of day, weren't you? This is the 'me' who is constantly complaining about lack of sleep or interrupted sleep or the necessity of getting up too early. Funny what holidays can do to me. The chance of seeing something special and taking a few good pictures and there I was climbing out of bed at 5am.

You didn't let me down. It was a special time. Nobody else about. Seagulls and rabbits on the green and on the beach. Only the sound of the waves and the shingle and the slow majestic emergence of the sun. The light before the sun rose was beautiful. Soft and  pinkish; turning each everyday object into a thing of beauty. There was a moment when the first rays shot forwards towards me across the sea in a glittering orange stripe before becoming more diffuse as the sun climbed over the horizon. It almost could have been accompanied by music, it was such a startling moment. 

As every minute passed everything changed. The sky, the light, the reflections, the atmosphere. From the muted half-light to the glow on the horizon to the bold splash of orange and gold and red to the yellow and white and silver. 

On the second time out I met another human being; a man with a camera. I said good morning and made to walk past and as I did he commented that he had thought that this morning would be an amazing sunrise, but it failed to materialise and he was disappointed. I smiled politely as I lifted my own camera again and I marvelled that it was possible to look on the spectacle and be disappointed. I don't get to see enough sunrises to make many comparisons - until this week my experiences of dawn have consisted of desperate wishes for day to arrive as I've sat up all night with a newborn baby. This was quite different. 

It was very very beautiful. Words are too small to try and capture the hugeness of your sunrise over the ocean. I'm quite sure that many and more articulate people than I have tried to pin it down but when it comes to it there's nothing to do but watch. Even staring at it through a camera lens doesn't do it justice, although I had a good try! 

It made me think about my Dad. He was a photographer; it's what he did. He loved taking photographs and he was never seen without a camera over his shoulder. I used to take my photographs to him when they were developed and if he admired one then I felt a particular sense of achievement. A compliment from my Dad about the composition of a photograph was high praise indeed. I wanted to be as good as he was at spotting the good angle, composing an exceptional shot. I have a long way to go, but as I was crouching on the beach to put a sea groyne in silhouette in the fore ground of a photo or changing the focus to make the picture different he was in my mind and I wished that he could look at my photos and tell me where they could be better. He would have loved it. 

I found on both mornings that I went out early that I walked along the seafront taking pictures and then took the same ones on the way back because things looked so different in the new light. If I'd been there an hour previously when it was dark I guess they would all have looked different again. I'm sure there is a metaphor for life in there - darkness and murkiness and shadows and the scene looks one way, then the promise of light casts a much warmer more positive glow; a sense of anticipation before the grand event where light breaks forth and makes everything shine and sparkle - blasts away the shadows and shows us the beauty and truth of what we have only half seen in the pre-dawn half-light. 

I'm living somewhere between the murk and the half-light. Definitely some point after dawn has dispelled the darkness but the full glory of the sun hasn't lit everything up yet. Sometimes I can see the glow on the horizon and even a dramatic, attention-grabbing streak of gold across the sky heralding some wonder to come but mostly I am walking in the soft light of promise, beyond blackness but not quite at the point of sunrise. 

So...is sunrise just when we get to Heaven? Or can I somehow grow up out of the haze (subtly beautiful though it is and well worth a few photos) and find myself bathed in sunlight in this life? I don't know. 

Maybe that analogy was a load of rubbish. What do you think? Are you listening to me with an indulgent smile as I fiddle about with words and ideas? Do I ever get closeish to the mark or are you planning to nudge me back into the fold at some point?

The sunrises were beautiful. Breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. Simply inspiring. Spirit lifting. Our holiday was so good - I had numerous opportunities to feed off your wonder-full creation and let it nourish my soul. Thankyou. And thanks that I have a good camera and a decent eye and that my Dad taught me enough to capture tiny parts of it to gaze at when I need to refill. 

Lord, I need to find a way to let my spirit dance as it did watching the sun come up over the expanse of the sea when a) I'm not on holiday, b) I'm not in a relaxed and optimistic frame of mind already and c) when I'm not near the sea. I love the sea and when I drive to the coast my heart lifts when I can see it. Coming home was a problem for me as I felt as if my world was shrinking again. I watched the ocean in the rear view mirror for longer than I should have done. 

So here I am in Derbyshire and I love the scenery. I love the hills and the rocks and the moors and I love that it's my home. I'm not complaining. Maybe I love the sea so much because you can't get much further inland than Derbyshire and so all my life a trip to the seaside was a treat, but I do know how blessed I am to live in a county so rich in beauty of its own. I need to get out more, don't I?

I need to find a way of finding the space in my head as I did watching the sunrise on the beach. To find the spacious place. To find room to breathe and focus on you. Not to get so bogged down again in everyday life that there's no elbow room. Things get too claustrophobic. I only had a week at the seaside and after it took me a couple of days to unwind and relax I only had a few to enjoy the relaxation - it would be a shame to throw that away so soon.  

Please would you teach me how to find that peace without requiring a vast seascape and a 4.45am start? 

'He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

He drew me out of deep waters.

He rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the Lord was my support.

He brought me out into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me.'

Psalm 18:16-19

 

The skies proclaim your handiwork

Are you there, God?

Well, life isn’t easy, is it.  I come away on holiday and I love being by the sea and the sun has shone and the stars last night were truly spectacular.  All the family is here and we’ve spent time sitting on the beach and had a lovely meal out and watched the children play and looked at the sunset over the marshes. It has been beautiful and awe inspiring and just lovely.

It's just me that's the problem.

My head is all over the place and it just goes to show (not that I didn’t already know this) that I take my problems with me wherever I go. I had hoped that I’d be able to leave them behind at home (with the cotton trousers, hairbrush, boules set and flip flops that I meant to bring with me, grr) to come away and feel a lightness of spirit that has been eluding me recently. Indeed, a lightness of spirit that I felt last time we were here in this very place. That time, I had the spectre of impending investigations into a sinister-looking breast lump hanging over me and I still managed, with some miraculous input from you, to feel more lighthearted than I do right now. How come?

Well, it doesn’t really matter how come, does it.

Lord, I’m still going round in circles. I want to leave my baggage with you but I seem to tell you about it and then just pick it up and take it away again.

‘Don’t you want to leave it with me?’  you’re asking.

‘Yes, yes, I’m leaving it!’ I say, as I haul it off the ground in front of you and hoist it onto my back.

I need some help, please. Don’t I always? Oh dear.

Let me tell you about last night.

‘The heavens declare the glory of God;

The skies proclaim his handiwork...'

Psalm 19:1

From where you are, do you get a perfect view of the stars every night? Or all the time? Do you still admire your handiwork or are you a bit blasé these days?  Because last night they blew me away. There was less light pollution out here right on the coast and we’re about fifty yards from the sea. The sky was dark and the stars were out. My God, were they out. There were more than I’ve seen before and after a while, when my eyes became accustomed to lying in the garden in the dark I could see the Milky Way like a cloud down the middle of the sky. It was spectacular. Vast. Majestic. And you made it. Stars in the sky and grains of sand on the beach. You know how many there are. You are great.

I saw it once before, years ago when I poked my head out of a tent in the middle of the night in a place called San Pedro de Atacama, in the Atacama desert in Chile. The dark was dark as this little village didn't have electricity and it was in the middle of nowhere. A friend and I had backpacked there and we were due to get up before dawn to see the sunrise over the El Tatio geyserfield. The stars took my breath away then and they did last night. I never thought I'd be anywhere that I'd see them again. Fancy that. The back garden of a rented house on the Suffolk coast and you pulled back the curtain again for me. 

Awesome.

Now there’s an overused word. But what I mean is something magnificent, mindblowing. Something of such beauty and wonder that it it stills me.  It's that awe that leaves me open mouthed with a sense that my head is struggling to grasp something enormous.

There’s a song by YFriday that has a line:

'Glorious, incredible, above our thoughts, immeasurable

Beyond the far horizons of our dreams...'

(Ken Riley and Andrew Neve, 2008 Thankyou Music)

That came to mind tonight as I gazed at the stars, over and over. Making me realize that I can’t even imagine your glory. It's far, far too big for me. I'm very, very small.

The heavens declare...

Today I was lying on the beach and the sun went behind a cloud for a second before it emerged again. The cloud formation was breathtaking and the sun’s rays radiated from behind this cloud before it lit up the sky again.  Yesterday as we were driving here we followed a thunderstorm for a while – the sun was shining but the sky ahead was purple and dark and for miles everywhere we went was soaked through as if we’d just missed a heavy rainshower. A few times we saw lightning forking in the purple of the low cloud even though we were in bright sunshine.

There were ladybirds on the beach. My girls kept catching them and examining them closely before they took off again. The seagulls can swoop to catch a chip in mid-air as you throw it to them before they whirl away again.  Our bedroom overlooks the marshes down to the harbour and there are rare birds there if you know where to look - avocets and bitterns and marsh harriers. 

I'm surrounded by wonders and beauty and majesty. I need to raise my game a bit I think.

I hope that I am just feeling like this because I’m tired – and I am so tired after last night’s bunk-bed-excited-children palaver. Late to bed and early to rise doesn’t do much for my state of mind. Maybe tomorrow we’ll all feel better and the sun and the sky and the sea and the rest of the beauty around me might get inside me and lift me out of myself.

‘Be of good courage. And he shall strengthen your heart. All you who hope in the Lord.’

Psalm 31:24

This was today’s little meditation on my (increasingly on-the-blink – do you ever heal mobile phones? If so, can I put a word in?) iPhone.  I read it at a moment in the day when I was feeling a little desperate and greatly in need of some strength. I do hope in you, Father God. I cling to you and I take refuge under your wing.

Strengthen my heart, Lord. It feels a bit weak and wobbly at the moment.

Psalm (of Helen)

I was afraid and alone and I didn't know how to find you

I wept and wailed and I was lost.

You came to find me when I had nothing
I cried out to you and you took my hand.
You drew me back to yourself.
I reached for you and you held me tightly
You held me in your arms and comforted me
You wiped away my tears.

I could do nothing but hold on and cry
You gently dried my eyes.
You are endlessly patient.

I lifted up my heart to you for you to wash it clean
I emptied out my life and laid it in front of you
Dirty and miserable
Full of sin and selfishness
Naked I stood before you, full of pain and shame
But you did not turn away.
I had nothing left to hide behind and still you loved me
I gave it all to you
I was ashamed at the state of my heart
But you washed it clean with your blood
And renewed me as your beloved child.
You forgave me.

(pause - to blow nose)

You took away my guilt and you gave me love in exchange
You took away the hurt and replaced it with acceptance
My only offering was my fear and bitterness
And yet you blessed me more than I can say.
You said that I could start again.

My Lord and my God

I know that you are there even when I can't see you.

When I wandered away, you waited for me

You never let me out of your sight.

You carried on loving me.

I will praise you until I have no breath left in me
Because you are the Lord and you reign in majesty
You are the Holy One and yet you love me
You are the only God and yet you are my Friend
I am your Child and you are my Father.
I am safe and I am loved
I can never begin to repay you for what you have done for me
You have set me free
You have a perfect plan for my life that fits only me
and I long to live the life that you want for me.

I will love the Lord my God all the days of my life
For I know that he loves me so much more.
I have seen your overwhelming kindness in my life
And I will not forget.

A steadfast heart

This morning there was a fox in our garden. A few weeks ago there was a badger. On a regular basis there are cats. As I sit here I can hear the birds singing and Streaky the blackbird has been around this morning as I hung out the washing; he even came for a look at the spectacle as I tried to calm Katy down in the middle of a tantrum. I was trying to remember what the tantrum was actually about but it escapes me. There are so many that they sort of merge into a blur at the moment but with Katy having all these investigations into the mystery lump any ideas of tackling problems in the behaviour arena are on hold. 

Beautiful sunny day. Today our new neighbours visited to advise us that they planned to cut down two trees and a hedge that separate their house from ours. They are perfectly at liberty to do so, and indeed, the trees in question are conifers that are a bit out of hand, but still, we're used to them being there and I'll miss them. They provide our wheelie bins with a bit of modesty and give some shade on the patio. And Lizzie tends to park her bike underneath out of the rain... sigh.

The dustbin men didn't empty our bin today. It seems that the rubbish didn't come out when they turned the bin upside down so tough luck us. That was probably because Bryan jumped up and down on the contents of the bin to try to squeeze some more stuff, but either way, we are left with a bin still half full of rubbish that has already been there a fortnight.

These things may in themselves not be particularly troublesome but today I'm not feeling like taking things in my stride. I have too much going on and too much in my head to cope with mean-spirited bin men and the loss of trees that have been there all my life. Bless the bin men, Lord. Bless those same bin men who a few weeks ago refused to take it away since I left it slightly further away than arms length up the drive. May they never experience the feeling of impotent frustration that they leave me with.

As you will be aware, Katy has been given some medicine by the consultant at the hospital. He was clear that he didn't know what was wrong with Katy but he felt that they had to start some form of treatment. The drugs are heavyweight antibiotics in a large dose that everyone has so far queried; the pharmacist at the hospital and since we got home a GP and two more pharmacists.  There's a hotline to the hospital to ask about Katy Murray's prescription. Two drugs, one to be taken once a day and the other twice. The once a day one is horrible - even in the explanatory literature it advises having a drink of fruit juice ready for the 'bitter aftertaste'. My brave Katy is getting round this by demanding chocolate. Ah well, needs must...

Apart from the regular administration of the medicines, apart from the fact that they interact with milk so she has to have her breakfast cereal dry at the moment, and no yoghurt for her tea; apart from the fact that they taste horrible and the side-effects list runs to three sides of A4, apart from the fact that they're upsetting her tummy so that her appetite is way down and her poo is bizarre in appearance and incredibly offensive, she's doing really well. No change in her bump but then a) she's only been on the drugs for five days and b) they don't know if these particular drugs will have any effect at all since they don't actually know what's wrong with her.

Could you give them a clue? A little hint?

Just to add an extra dimension of confusion to all this, one of the medicines expires after five days, the other after seven days. Every five days I need a new bottle of one, and every seven days I need a new bottle of the other. Not having the sort of mind that automatically multiplies dates by five and seven, taking into account Sunday closing for pharmacies and the length of time taken to generate a prescription, this took me a while with the calendar, a pen, a marker pen (to write on the boxes) and the phone, to try to get some help from the GP and local pharmacy. An agreement has been reached involving a sheaf of prescriptions and lengthy discussions with a variety of health professionals. The pharmacist told me that he had never had made up a prescription for one of these medicines before. Of course, it being so unusual they have to order it in specially, so the very first time I tried to put the five day repeat prescription in action it hadn't arrived. And it was a locum pharmacist and so I had to start from scratch with the whole story.

I'm so tired of all the phone calls and the explanations and the things that I have to remember. How do parents cope when they have little ones who are seriously ill?

I'm realising all the things I can't do at the moment. I'm trying to hold things in my head and get things done and be involved in things, and I can't do it. I'm forgetting birthdays, going to the supermarket and coming back without the most important things. I'm forgetting to send in money for school trips and missing appointments and the one thing I hate is unreliability. I hate it when other people are haphazard with arrangements and I don't know where I stand and all of a sudden the flaky one is me.

A couple of weeks ago I dashed back in to the house for my shopping list. I waved it at Mum as I sprinted past and said, 'Forgot this!' She replied with the wisdom of her generation, 'There's a surprise.' I stopped to ask what she meant and she told me I had too much on my plate at the moment. It's taken me a few weeks to stop bristling and accept that she's right. Could you not have given me the heads up on this a while ago, Lord, when I was Making Plans?

There's a Yiddish proverb, isn't there, that goes, 'We plan, God laughs.' Am I making you chuckle?

It's taking me all my time to get up in the morning, shoehorn the kids into their clothes, feed them (or at least place food in front of them) and get them to school or nursery in the right order. Add into that the hospital appointments, pharmacy visits and phone calls to field and I'm about done, since under all this is a backing track of worry and anxiety. My internal processor is pretty much maxed out.

So, I realised last night, that I've got to let it all go for now. If things are right, then I will have other opportunities to be involved in stuff that's going on that seems so interesting. If not then I can save my limited energy. There is a season for everything. A season for doing and a season for stopping; a season for being dynamic and a season for dropping everything but the most essential things and concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

One day, this is going to be me:

'He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. His heart is secure, he will have no fear; in the end he will look in triumph on his foes.'
Psalm 112:7-8

How far away from this I feel at the moment. I do fear bad news. I fear bad news about Katy, about Bryan's job, about my Mum, about me. I fear that your Plan won't be like my plan, and my life is going to be difficult and painful. I do trust in you but how quickly and how often my trust fails and I start to doubt. I start to wonder if you really do have my best interests at mind. My heart is weak instead of steadfast and secure; I'm easily frightened, easily worried, easily exhausted. I do fear; I fear everything, and occasionally in the middle of the night I feel consumed by it. Will I one day manage all this, and look in triumph on my foes?

And are my foes the bin men?

Lord I'm sorry for all the times I fear when I should trust, and all the times I turn to friends for consolation and advice instead of you. Give me a steadfast heart, secure in you and help me not crumble under pressure. Mighty Healer, make Katy better. I don't need to know what it is that she has; just one day let's wake up and it's gone. Resolved, in a miraculous sort of way. Why not? I would tell the world. I would give you all the glory! Honest.

I'm just laying it all before you, Lord, because I'm fed up with chasing my tail trying to keep up with all the possible diagnoses as the doctors think aloud and speculate on what Katy might have. Some think that her organs are involved as well as her neck; some think that she might have some systemic disease. Some think that her eyes might be involved, some think that it might originate in her lungs. Every time I hear a new theory I find out about it, frighten myself and achieve nothing. They need more blood and it was so absolutely awful last time that I'm dreading it. There was blood all over, she struggled so much. Blood on the floor, on the nurse and doctors, on Kate. She was beyond terrified during it and shattered afterwards. She's been referred to an ophthalmologist to see if anything is amiss there. God, just take all this and help me cope with it. Don't let her get any worse.

I know you have a special place in your heart for children. Please bring healing and peace to this household again Father. I can't do this on my own.

Trusting your holy name

The children are in bed, dinner is cooking and I have a glass of Pinot Noir to hand. It's Friday night, Bryan's home, there are no immediate hospital appointments, the fridge is full, there's another bottle in the wine rack and it's nearly eight o'clock and still light. 

How can I worry with all that going for me?

Today I listened to a worship CD in the car on the way to the supermarket and although I didn't feel lifted to a higher place, you were there with me. I had a sing to a couple of songs and I felt so much better by the time I got there. I got out of the car at Sainsbury's and had a little smile. I just had a feeling that everything was going to be alright.

Psalm 33: 21
'In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust His holy name.'

I trust you, whether I get the emotional response to your love or not. I will praise you, whether I feel I can sense you nearby or not. I love it when you reach out and touch me but I know that you don't love me any less when you just stay where you are and care for me.

I suppose it isn't you that has moved away from me, anyway. I don't know why some days I feel close to you and others I don't. I just want to learn not to rely on my feelings, not to falter and wonder and look about me anxiously like a child does when he loses sight of Mummy for a moment. I want to trust that I am rooted in you and despite the wind blowing I will stand firm. I want to trust that even though I don't feel transported to another place or basking in a glimpse of you. Those moments are wonderful but I know that they can't be there all the time.

I know that they're gifts and they're precious.

Help me to keep walking, Lord. When things are good and when they're bad, help me to keep walking. Mature my faith, I pray, so I don't fall into the trap of wanting things to be spectacular and personal and emotional all the time. I know that you will never leave me.

So cheers, here's to you, my Lord and my God and my Friend. I'm rejoicing in you because I trust your holy name. Thankyou for family and nice food and a glass or two of wine. You've given me so much.

Keep taking the pills

Thankyou God!


Spring is here - milder weather, blue sky (howling arctic gale, but we'll overlook that), crocuses and daffodils coming up, little tiny bits of green on the trees and hedges.  It's almost time to plant tomato seeds and put them on the kitchen windowsill and forget to water them, and the children are wanting to go outside to play again even though the garden is muddy. Because the garden is muddy.


It's usually the time of year that really energises me; makes me feel hopeful and optimistic (within the parameters of my characteristic pessimism, I mean) and generally cheers me up.  This year it's not happening.


I stood outside Elizabeth's school today being buffeted by an icy wind (why does her class always come out last whenever it's cold or raining?) and contemplated how not happening my Springness was this year. I could see the daffodils they'd planted along the side of the classrooms and the crocuses in neighbouring gardens and little bright green things on some bushes, and it was sunny and yet I just felt like waking up from hibernation, opening one eye and then closing it again and deciding to give it another month or so.


This time last year I'd already cleaned the greenhouse and organised the plant pots and had smiled a lot more and written about how wonderful it was to see clothes drying on the clothes line again after a winter in the tumble dryer.


Why am I so apathetic?  I put it down to three things:


1.  I am definitely not a picture of health at the moment.  I've got a season ticket to the GP, who smilingly informed me that I was 'chronically viral' the other day and this very morning added encouragingly that my immune system must be pretty much knackered (as you know, that wasn't the word he used. His was slightly less polite, to my surprise).  I am at present attacking three separate ailments with antibiotics and I ran out of paracetamol the other day - and you know how obsessive I am about having crates of painkillers ready for every eventuality.


2.  I have given up Facebook for Lent. This might sound trivial and somewhat frivolous, but I am definitely missing the company and support of my online mates.  Today I would have posted that I'm not a happy bunny, and they would have doubtless been supportive and sympathetic and encouraging and made me feel loved. Hmmph.


3.  Something else.


I feel as if things are going wrong for me.  One thing after another is breaking, crumbling, aching, becoming troublesome. Is this the co-incidence thing that we've talked about recently?  The more I step out in faith, the more difficult things get?  The more I try to do for you - the more excited I feel about my walk with you, the more I find obstacles in front of me?  Maybe my giving up my prodigious Facebook habit in order to concentrate more on you is making (ahem) The Enemy feel uncomfortable, so he's throwing in my way circumstances that would normally have me running to my support network?  That sounds a tad melodramatic to me, but as you know, I haven't really got this devil thing sorted out. 


CS Lewis (who spoke so much sense) said that it makes the devil happy when we underestimate him but I still feel a bit uncomfortable about giving him credit for all the duff things that are going on right now. I must get to grips with the idea of spiritual warfare. That's for another day.


To continue my whinge, I'd like to bring it to your attention that this week I've missed two church meetings I really wanted to go to, am even as I chat with you now I'm missing the lovely acapella group that lifts my spirits so much. I've had to cancel a coffee date that I've been looking forward to for weeks as I've got something stressful that has to be done in the afternoon and I know that I can't fit in both things either time-wise or energy wise and I'm unprepared for both.  I have spent much of the time that I should have been busy doing this week sleeping instead, which in itself is a blessing but doesn't seem to have given me the boost I would have expected.


Oh I just need to get a grip, don't I?  


I can see you nodding, only you do it in such a way that I can't take offence.  You've got that lovely indulgent, loving expression on your face so that I don't feel got at, I just feel like my Daddy is amused by me, but loves me too much to take the mickey.  


What do I do, Lord?  What do I do to feel full of energy and expectancy and enthusiasm again?  Can you see your way clear to just filling me with it while I sleep tonight so that tomorrow I start the day feeling great?


Or maybe I just have to keep on keeping on.  Be a brave soldier.  Learn to be a bit more self sufficient without my Facebook buddies?  Or better still more dependent on you. Look at you when my instinct is to look to them.  Listen to you when I'd be seeking advice in cyberspace.  These are fundamental things, aren't they, Lord?  I am such a spiritual baby sometimes.


Psalm 121

'I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
   where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, 
  the Maker of heaven and earth.'


So if I lift my eyes up I might see you. 


Or at least, if I'm lifting my eyes then I'm not focused on the ground, on the problems, on the puddles and the mud, unable to see the vastness of the sky, and the sun, and you.  If I lift up my eyes I'm not looking inwards, or at myself and my problems and hurts and anxieties.  I know that you won't let me down.  I've been here before, when I'm feeling bewildered and hurt that you're letting these things happen to me and maybe I'll never get to the bottom of why.  But, as I've said before, what I do know is that you will never leave me.  And if I can't feel you next to me, that doesn't mean that you're not there.


'The LORD will keep you from all harm—
   he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
   both now and forevermore.'


You always have, and you are still watching over me. 


So why is all this rubbish happening and why do I feel so low?  I don't know.  Maybe when I'm wiser and more mature as a Christian I might understand what it's all about; or maybe not.  Maybe that saying is true, that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  


Maybe I knew that when I started to do new things for you, when I gave you a little tiny bit more of me than I'd done before, when I just opened another little door of my life and let you in, a bit that I'd been withholding, maybe I knew that I would meet with opposition.  Maybe as the angels celebrate, in another place there are demons grinding their teeth (now I do sound like CS Lewis).  


Well, I'm going to keep on with this, I'm going to keep on talking to you, and leaning on you heavily.  


I'm going through this week with my worship CD on in the car, my devotions applications on my iPhone, my Rick Warren book and the new one by Eric Delve on my bedside table next to my Bible, and the distraction of Facebook absent for once.  


Ok then.  I'll keep taking the pills.  

You hem me in

Lord, right now is one of those times that I don't want a promise.

I don't want a piece of scripture to reassure me, even though you've given me a book full of them.  I don't want to have to hang onto my faith and endure and battle with things and put up with other things and just hold on to the good things in the middle of the bad things.

I want you to change things. I want you to answer a prayer, not sometime in the future, and not in a mysterious way, and not in a way that requires hindsight when I look back ten years from now.  I just want you to change things, right now.  Make things better.

Don't stop me from worrying, just take away the things I'm worried about, will you?

I know that sounds incredibly ungrateful. I know about the promises and I know that you love me.  It's just that sometimes (like now) I feel like my small girls (3 and 5) when they just want me to make it better. They won't be reasoned with, or fobbed off with distant promises about things being better in the long run; they want it sorted NOW please.  Or maybe not even please. But the point I'm making is that I know that you can turn things round in an instant if you wanted to; and to add emphasis I shall draw your attention to what I heard in a sermon in church last night - You could change the way that the earth spun on its axis if it pleased you to do it. 

So why don't you, very often? I know, I know. It's all about knowing what's best for me. Just as I don't give in to my girls' many requests for sweets when we're about to have dinner, maybe it wouldn't be good for me to have what I want right now.  But can't you just make it good for me, so that I don't have to be so anxious and sad and uncomfortable, rather than teaching me to get used to discomfort and conquer the anxiety?

I don't want to be worried all the time.  I don't want to have to try so hard.  I reckon that if you took away half the things that worry me, I'd be much better equipped to shoulder the other half.  Is it a deal?

I sometimes feel like screaming.  I feel like being totally selfish and not search for the higher meaning at all.  I don't feel like looking up your promises to me and meditating on them.  I don't want to be worshiping you when I don't feel like it.  I don't feel like looking on the bright side or counting my blessings.

Sigh.

I take that back.  I know how blessed I am.   I even know that the things that worry me aren't anywhere near on the scale of the troubles that some people have.  Even people I know. In fact, the bit of the last paragraph that is nearest the truth is the bit about 'totally selfish'.  But what's wrong with that every now and again?  Sorry for shouting.

It's just that (doesn't that sound a bit whiny) I want to know who's looking after me. From time to time it seems as if I run about trying to please everyone - and I have a long list of people to please - and yet it doesn't seem as if anyone else's list includes me. Who's out there pleasing me?

Oh blimey, that's not true either.  I have a loving husband and a wonderful Mum and two gorgeous daughters and some good friends and lots of supportive people on Facebook.  I should just shut up.

Are you nodding?  There's no need for that.

I'm in such a bad mood.  Can you tell?

From being a tiny child I have heard grown ups tell me on a regular basis that life isn't fair. Why is it never unfair in my favour?  If there were a dozen people in a queue in front of a cashpoint that was handing out fifties instead of tens when it got to my turn it would probably snaffle my card. I don't feel lucky, sometimes, I feel weighed down.

The rollercoaster isn't going to stop any time soon, is it, God?  I know I should just learn to enjoy the view from the top before it plummets off the edge again, but today I feel as if I've got my eyes screwed tight shut and I'm clinging on as hard as I can just to keep going.

Sigh.

I'm going to stop moaning, for several reasons.

Reason one is that I've read all this back and I'm not coming across like a mature, loving, insightful Child Of God, more a spoiled toddler who's up too late.
Reason two is that I'm feeling a bit better just for having had a rant. Are you OK with that? I'm thinking it's a bit too late, really, as it's Out There whether I delete it or not - I could erase this whole screen and no other mortal would be any the wiser but you'd still know. I don't even have to write it down for you to see the darkest, most narky, self absorbed parts of me, do I?

The fact that you love me even though you can see all that is an amazing thing to me.

Reason three, and the most compelling, is that I don't really believe you're ignoring me.  I trust you.  I know that it'll come down to you knowing best. I know that in hindsight the chances are I'll see what this period of my life was all about.  I know that you sometimes don't bring about change without knocking off a few corners.  I know that you love me unconditionally and even when I whine like a child. I know that you want what's best for me, and if you don't want to stop the world spinning and set it going the other way then there's a pretty good reason why not.

So you win again, Lord.  As David said in a psalm somewhere, 'You hem me in'.  Wait a minute, I think that might have been psalm 139.

Oh my goodness it is:

'Before a word is on my tongue    you, LORD, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before,    and you lay your hand upon me.' 

That's just what I was saying! You knew, didn't you?  You knew how special that psalm is to me. You know it all.  


Ah, Lord, when do you think I'll grow up? 


Thankyou for laying your hand upon me.  I needed that, today.

End of tantrum.

Psalm 139 part 2: Fearfully and wonderfully made. Hmm.

God, this is a good one.

'For you created my inmost being;    you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;    your works are wonderful,    I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you    when I was made in the secret place,    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body;    all the days ordained for me were written in your book    before one of them came to be.'

Oh yes, this is a good one, God. Psalm 139 again. I don't want to think about this bit. 


I have struggled with this since I was eleven and someone mean told me that I was fatter than Alice Bennet* (*not her real name)  and no-one would ever fall for a fat girl. And now I'm forty, so that's twenty nine years of struggling. 


'Fearfully and wonderfully made'?  Me? 


'Your works are wonderful, I know that full well'.  


Indeed I do.  I look round and see the things you have made and I do indeed know that you don't make mistakes. Everything is made just how you wanted it. You planned it. Things are not random, not accidental, and not just anyhow.  'Oh, it'll do' isn't a phrase that you use very often, I'm thinking. 


So how do I reconcile what I know of you, what Psalm 139 tells me, with how I feel about myself?  I've tried every diet in the book and then some for twenty nine years, and it's only really in the last couple of years that I've started to come to terms with the fact that I'll never be what I'm supposed to be if you believe the magazines; that I'll never take off my glasses and shake my hair and reveal a surprisingly beautiful Hollywood woman... and so on and so on.  It's not likely that what you really meant in Psalm 139 is that everyone else is fearfully and wonderfully made except me. 


I know that I need to take care of myself, and I'm trying hard to get a bit thinner and look after my heart, but I've realised in the last couple of years that we are all different, we are all wonderful, because we are your creations and you don't tend to mess things up.  


I feel less apologetic and more worthwhile. Funny that I've got to 40 to start to feel comfortable being me. I've a way to go, but the last couple of years things have happened, and that's all down to you, Lord. There's so much more to each one of us than appearance and there's more than one way to be beautiful. 


I know that you have a plan for me:

'...all the days ordained for me were written in your book    before one of them came to be.' 

I know that if only I trust you, then my life will be as you want it to be; worthwhile.  Even if I don't have a high flying career, even if the rest of the world doesn't rate me, you do.  Because you made me to be me, not pretending to be someone else that I perceive to be more interesting, not envying someone else their dress size, the muscle tone of their upper arms, or their hair, or their talents. You don't want me to go through life fearful of rejection or without the confidence to have a go at things, because you made me to be me, and I am uniquely placed to do the job that you have down for me. 


Your works are wonderful.  So that means that I am wonderful. Am I listening? 


I need reminding of this on a regular basis. I should start each day with Psalm 139, maybe. I don't often feel wonderful.  


I love the way you get messages across, Lord.  Last Friday I was given a bit of paper, randomly, with one of your promises on.  There were about a dozen bits of paper, but mine was part of Psalm 139. I sneakily picked up a second one from those left over and this one was another bit of Psalm 139.


All week I've had that song going round in my head - it's an old old one and it's based on Psalm 139.


'Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you through and through, I chose you to be mine...' dee dah dee dee dee dah...

A couple of days ago I was planning prayers for the 11am service on Sunday and I found out the reading was Psalm 139. 


I can't wait to find out what message there is on Sunday. I love how you can read something a million times and be so familiar with it, and then one day you look at it again and it leaps out at you in a new way.  

'How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
   How vast is the sum of them!' 

  Amen, Lord God. You are endlessly surprising.

I won't let you fall: Psalm 139 part 1

Morning, God.


I've been reading Psalm 139. Wonderful words.

'You have searched me, LORD, 

   and you know me. 

 You know when I sit and when I rise; 

  you perceive my thoughts from afar. 

You discern my going out and my lying down; 

   you are familiar with all my ways. 

Before a word is on my tongue 

   you, LORD, know it completely.' 

There are times when I don't have any words, strange as that may seem for someone who is always wittering on. It has been observed in the past that I'm not a person to use three words when a hundred and fifty might do - but sometimes I find that there's so much I want to say but I have no idea how to start. And that's why Psalm 139 is so wonderful.  One of the reasons. 


You have searched me and you know me. So you'll know right now that I have a headache, I'm looking out of the window at the back garden where the wind has blown over the bird table and our Christmas Tree (Bruce the Spruce) who is still in his pot as he hasn't the advantage of roots, is lying on his side because of the wind. You'll know what sort of week I've had - confusing, frustrating, strange, tiring, disappointing. There were some good points in it, but at this exact moment I don't feel like dwelling on them because I'm feeling a bit pathetic, but you know that too.  And you'll know that I've forgotten the sugar in my coffee, so excuse me for one minute.


That's better. 


So you know everything about me. I can't hide from you, can I?  Even when I shut you out in the mistaken impression that it might make life simpler, you're still there.  It reminds me of when my little girls put their heads behind a cushion and then imagine that because they can't see me, I can't see them. Sometimes you make me uncomfortable and I like to pretend that you're not there. That's what I do; I shut my eyes really tight and shout 'lalalala' so that I can't hear you - but you're still there. Smiling at me, because you love me even when I'm a bit of a prat.


I was reading the other day that watching me gives you pleasure, Lord.  Really? Just as I go to see Lizzie and Katy on my way to bed and I watch them sleep, you watch me. Just as I fill up with love as I look at their beautiful little faces fast asleep, all the rubbish of the day disappears.  All the little bits of disobedience, the squabbles, the cross voices, the conflicts, the wasted food, the spilled drinks, the pulled faces, the refusals to co-operate and the daily bathtime armageddon all evaporate as I gaze at them, looking so tiny and vulnerable and young. 


Do you look at me like that? Does it make it all worthwhile?


That's an idea that blows my mind. All the debris that I accumulate; the hundreds of times each day that I offend you, the vast majority of which I don't ever say sorry for, and yet you look down on me with love. 

'Where can I go from your Spirit?

   Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,    

if I settle on the far side of the sea,  

even there your hand will guide me,

   your right hand will hold me fast.'

 

So you'll never leave me, either.  Not even when I run to the ends of the earth to avoid you - no problem because the ends of the earth are nothing for the one who made it.  


The last two lines make me think of me limping along, hurt or injured, and you're beside me with your arm round me, helping me, showing me the way. You won't let go. Like that bit in Titanic, 'Never let go!' only I'm not a sinking ship, (even though I do occasionally feel that I'm clinging to the wreckage).


I won't go under, because you're there, with your right hand holding me fast.


Katy learned to climb a climbing frame the other day, and for a while she was very nervous about striking out on her own. She needed me to hold her while she climbed, and then after a while she needed me to just be there.  I heard myself saying to her, 'I won't let you fall'.  That's me, human, mother to a sweet little unco-ordinated thing that was shinnying up a ladder to a slide, assuring her that she was safe because I was there. Brave words.  I would have done everything possible not to let her fall, and she had faith in me. I find myself watching my children on these playframes feeling a bit anxious as I know that I can't be everywhere and accidents lurk around every corner.  I won't always be there to catch her, if she falls off to the left, or the right, or slips out of reach, or does something unpredictable, as small children are wont to do.


But you will be there for me.  When you say, 'I won't let you fall', I can be absolutely sure that you won't.  


Because you said in Psalm 139 that you know what I'm going to do before I do it. You are never too far away to hold onto me.  You will never leave me.  And you keep your promises. You don't just do your best - there's no doubt about it. Your best is a definite.


Today's little devotional reading on my iPhone was from the writings of Charles Spurgeon:

'Ah! What mercy it is that it is not your hold of Christ that saves you, but his hold of you!  What a sweet fact, that it is not how you grasp his hand, but his grasp of yours, that saves you.  The Lord's promise, once given, is never recalled'.

Charles Spurgeon, Daily Help


So no matter how tricky the climbing frame is that I'm clambering up, you'll hang onto me. Maybe I should try out a few more climbing frames instead of worrying about plummeting to the ground and breaking my neck. Because the One who made me and the universe loves me because I am his child, and he won't let me fall.


Maybe your face will light up with delight like mine did when Katy turned round at the top and said with pride, 'I did it!'


I like that idea.